


The Long Kiss Goodnight

by Violetlyvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Assassin Dean, M/M, Plot Twists, Prompt Fic, non-linear, president cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 10:42:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: Dean is an assassin charged with killing Zachariah, but the tyrant’s nephew Castiel gets in the way.





	The Long Kiss Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously a great time to be posting my first tumblr prompt fic. 
> 
> And also a golden opportunity to plug my tumblr: violetlyvanilla   
> Same username on wattpad. 
> 
> P.s. If you would like to do spncoldesthits this month I’ve copy and pasted the prompt details in the end notes, in case you can’t find it on tumblr. 
> 
> P.p.s. Based on the song ‘Take A Look Lee’. Which I have not heard but hey coldesthits is all about playing it fast and loose right? 
> 
> P.p.p.s. Violence is never the answer

What the fuck was he doing here. Standing in the shadow of the compound. Zachariah’s emblem still hung on the gates, dripping wet black ribbon decomposing slowly over it. Dean had heard the tyrant was dead. He supposed he wanted to know why it didn’t work. There was a face, when he pulled the trigger, sliding past in the view finder. The crosshair had glided over the pallid tones of flesh and dark hair but there had been a flash of blue too. So startling that Dean almost lost his shot when he exhaled unexpectedly. Turned out though his training held true. The legacy of John Winchester before him and Henry Winchester before John. The Colt had fired straight and then not so straight. The bullet taking on some magically curved trajectory, missing the nephew altogether and hitting Dean’s target right in the heart. Dean’s own heart squelched in his chest because as the ammunition slid from the barrel, Dean had recognised Castiel. 

The name itself meant nothing to him. He had never read it in a book or seen it on television, it was not spoken of over the radio. The world knew the man as The Commander, second only to Zachariah The Controller. Now there was a name Dean was familiar with, the military might of Zachariah’s empire. Castiel had been heretofore faceless, nameless, until Dean pointed the trigger and pulled the lever. 

Maybe it was grief over the loss of his friend Sam Wesson. Sam’s disappearance had been noted by no one but Dean. Sam had been reading, his research leading him to one dead end after another. Until the day he called Dean, breathless with shock, at what he had discovered. The whole world was a lie, starting with the company where they had met while working. Sandover was haunted and there Dean and Sam had discovered they could hunt monsters. Then the nightmares set in for Sam and he began to dream of a world more real than this one, where Zachariah was an angel and he and Sam and were hunters and brothers. It sounded like madness to Dean, except for how familiar the story felt. Like madness was catching. Till nothing felt solid and reliable except for Sam’s company and the hold of the seats of the Impala as they zoomed across the country. 

* * *

Time passed strangely. 

* * *

Zachariah mysteriously went from middle management to full blown dictator. As Dean and Sam resigned, took on odd jobs, started frauding credit cards to get by - all to sustain the hunting, to sate the insatiable monsters - Zachariah had risen in status. Now a politician, then a mayor, soon a senator and finally the president. It had unfolded like a bad dream until the streets were littered with campaign posters that read “Carry on wayward roaches, carry on.” Dean had no idea how such a slogan could win an election but win Zachariah did. Sweepingly, inexplicably, without a soul remarking upon it. 

So here was Dean, standing by the unguarded doorway into the sleeping quarters of the freshly anointed ruler. Here he creeps, silent and deadly past the moonlit windows.

“Cas ...” 

That was the only sound Dean managed, not even the full name, before he is slammed into the wall, full bodied. The scent of the man was overwhelming. Like Christmas and winter and vanilla and spice. Not paper and tyranny. He leered at Dean and whispered hotly into his ear. “I have been waiting for you sweet assassin.” 

The rest unfolded like a fever dream and Dean had no idea how he came to lie in the bed, the sheets tangled, his body and soul bared. Castiel was snoring with a smile on his face as his eyelids danced in dreams. 

That was the first night. 

* * * 

“When he’s dead, we’ll all wake up in the real world,” Sam said, sincerely. “I know, it sounds crazy, but that’s everything the lore said about angels and the illusions they can spin around you.” 

“He doesn’t look like an angel,” Dean stared at the magazine cover, Zachariah perched in a red arm chair, solemn and sinisterly lit. 

* * * 

Castiel looked like an angel. His midnight black hair soft and feathery to touch. The cupid’s bow of his lips curved sweetly. The arch of his nose regal. The set of his cheekbones were high and aloof. The halo of his eye sockets divine. Dean was breathless and spent, awed by the beauty of him. In the morning he might make Dean vanish just like Sam. For now he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, tucked Dean’s head protectively in the shelter of his chest. His warmth baked through Dean’s bones. Maybe in the real world they had been lovers too, Dean wondered. 

* * * 

“Maybe a gun wouldn’t work, not even The Colt,” Sam said, his face worried. “I think there’s this object, the angel blade, that could work.” 

“What’s an angel blade?” Dean asked, baffled and more than a little drunk. 

“It looks like this,” Sam sketched it out on a napkin. “Silver and every angel carries one.” 

The bourbon burned down their throats. Neither of them would remember the conversation in the morning. 

* * * 

“You can call me The Commander,” said the beautiful blue eyed man. “I will take charge of you from now on. What do you want, my pet? A house, a horse, a garden of roses? Burger dates and beef steaks? Never waking American dream. Come to me every night, try and do it, I’ll give you a thousand and one chances.”

* * * 

Dean was going to do it. He was an assassin from a long line of assassins. He was a hunter on his mother’s side. His brother was Sam Fucking Winchester. He had killed Zachariah, he could kill The Commander. 

Castiel kissed like heaven. His lips soft as clouds. He felt like home. He was the only thing Dean wanted. 

“I want Sam.” 

* * * 

“I was not ill treated, merely educated,” said Sam. His left eyelid kept twitching. 

Castiel raised his crystal glass. “To Sam, congratulations on completing your realignment to our cause.” 

Dean drained his glass, Sam swallowed the wine in long gulps. His mouth a crimson slash which he dabbed at daintily with his starched napkin.

* * * 

“He’s kind of soul-less,” Dean complained. 

“You want to try to kill me again tonight?” Castiel asked, not very interested in discussing Sam.

“Maybe I’ll be busy,” Dean teased. “Maybe I’m over that.” 

“You’ll never be over me,” Castiel said and turned away to sign papers. 

Since taking over after Zachariah Castiel had been working hard to restore order to the land. There had been democratic elections, all of which he won without opposition. Tonight was the coronation, they had put a throne into the pentagon office. 

* * * 

“He’s Cas,” Sam said urgently. “You’ll never be able to do it.” 

“I just have to earn his trust.” 

* * * 

“You stabbed me in the heart the first time we met too,” Castiel said, eyes wide. “I think I remember that.” 

“You’re dying,” Dean soothed. “Shush now.” 

* * * 

“Well done Dean, and Sam too,” Zachariah clapped. “Took you guys long enough. I was growing quite weary of waiting.” 

“Castiel sends his regards,” Dean said and pushed the angel blade in deep. 

Zachariah lit up like a Christmas tree. 

* * * 

“Castiel, your name is Castiel and I love you Cas.” 

The Commander looked at Dean and blinked. 

“Now why does that name ring a bell?” 

* * * 

“Everything will be jumbled up, time, your memories, our memories, who we are,” Castiel said, his hand clasped around Dean’s. “It will be confusing.” 

The bed felt soft even though it wasn’t really there. 

The moonlight glowed in Cas’ eyes even though it was false. 

“This is real,” Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand. “I’ll always find you Cas.” 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> DECEMBER PROMPT: Banned Songfic
> 
> Posting Dates December 15th at 12am through December 19th at 11:59pm


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